• hopilavayi: an erotic dictionary

memories of my ghost sista

~ the dead are never satisfied

memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: free verse

Quote

LOVE SONG WITH WITCHES

13 Wednesday May 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, quote unquote

≈ Comments Off on LOVE SONG WITH WITCHES

Tags

cunnilingus, erotic poetry, free verse, love song, poetryslutsunited, sexetry, with witches, words in Armenian

babylon-crashing:

I.

Sleepless, magic night

your fingers and legs spread wide

exploring new worlds.

II.

There is no sin, just

a dark forest first

came the drum, da-da,

and then came the song.

III.

At fourteen I talked to ghosts with
black mud,

bud and cheap blood running in the
acid.

There was a glamour but I did not understand

anything that they were trying to say.

IV.

If you must belong to a tribe, come. No

one has loved you with lips and
fingers, laid

with you until the moon’s day-face
faded

with the dawn. None have brought you
lover’s gifts.

We are a tribe of never-was. We are

a tribe of all of us that might have
been.

V.

Hear me. This is no gift. Here be
witches,

vhukneri. This is your clitoris,

tslik. This is my tongue, lezu. They
call

this witchcraft, kakhardut’yun. A
shaman

must ride a long-tongued ghost to learn
all her

occult secrets. You, blood heart, must
ride me.

VI.

To be a corpse bride, to find a long
dead

lover, to have your crazy hair caught
up

in the air, saints preserve, in a
forest

first came the drum, then the song, for
I am

singing, I am drumming. No one hears
me.

VII.

At the crossroads you shall find all:
this song,

hashish cakes and shadows. Ride me, I
am

your drum, singing your way back home.
I am

a hard ride. Together we will go far.

><><><><

NOTE:

The foreign words I use are Armenian:

ՎՀՈՒԿՆԵՐԻ (vhukneri) =
witches.

ԾԼԻԿ (tslik) = clitoris.

ԼԵԶՈՒ (lezu) = tongue.

ԿԱԽԱՐԴՈՒԹՅՈՒՆ
(kakhardut’yun) = witchcraft.

Quote

the kingdom that wind scorns

18 Saturday Apr 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, quote unquote

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Tags

afterlife in polaroids, free verse, pink motel, poem, Poetry, say cheese please, the kingdom that the wind scorns, there is no kissing in hell

afterlife in polaroids

I.

There’s a pink motel 

somewhere for me. I 

can’t wait to go haunt 

it.  When I’m dead. I will 

be. Giant pink
eerie lips 

that make soft num-

num sounds.  It
is said 

a pound of flesh will get 

you a lot
less than it did

in your parent’s day.  

II.

I’ve
read there is no kissing in hell. 

III.

It’s a shame lips 

don’t survive. Bones 

become the playhouse 

of ghosts; after 

scavengers discard 

them, worms
bask 

in them, a kingdom 

that the wind scorns.

IV.

What if it all came down 

to this?
subdued spots 

where I could paint your 

toes?  A calm sink to
spit 

into?  Our bodies behind 

closed pink doors.
Crude 

motel shadows at bath. 

Relaxed and wild with
it 

we start, we end our days 

as a mirror image.

TWILIGHT BURNING

12 Sunday Apr 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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Tags

everything hurts, free verse, Lady Snowblood, mythical sisterhood, Poetry, Red Horn Hill, twilight burning

Come, heart, less kind than

gray twilight, burning in fires

of slanderous tongues

where spring dew is heaped

upon Red Horn hill. Sun and

moon and hollow and

twilight gray if there is a

mystical sisterhood they will

not come for me, if there is a

Lady Snowblood she is not

here.

STRANGELOVE

11 Saturday Apr 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

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Tags

as if your human lungs stood a chance, free verse, lick your thighs, poem, Poetry, strangelove

Soaks through your

knickers, long after the

change, what will save you,

greedy virgin? Romance? Take

a lover, still the sea will

surprise you, grab you,

consume you, fill you with

stranglelove. As if your

human lungs stood a

chance, as the waves touch

you, as they lick your thighs.

WHOMEVER

10 Friday Apr 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

≈ Comments Off on WHOMEVER

Tags

different womb, feel daddy’s scratchy face, free verse, pat the bunny, poem, Poetry, whomever

Pat the bunny, the shadows

are long, sometimes I can’t

 

always find whomever I’m

looking for. Or whoever. I get

 

those mixed up. See, you

were an aunt to me. Though

 

I come from a different womb,

different time, different world,

 

all that you praised is still here,

like this child that you helped

 

raised though you didn’t know

it. Come, feel daddy’s scratchy face.

SPOOKY BIRD

10 Friday Apr 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Erotic, Poetry

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Tags

fleshpot vespers, free verse, jizz, junk, poem, slicked back hair, sly-boot box, spooky bird

“Kafé, kasita non kafela et publia filii omnibus suis” — an invocation to allow one to enter someone’s dreams.

Dreams are coming to

the heel just outside,

 

the shadow in my sly-boot

box says so. This, too, is

 

a love poem and like all

brief solutions is already

 

fading. Meanwhile go

nowhere, do nothing.

 

Every motion wasted.

Finger this hole. On my

 

lips a sticky residue: jizz,

junk, slicked back hair.

 

Fleshpot vespers. Spooky

bird. I will enter your dream.

shallow depression

13 Thursday Nov 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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Tags

falter my halter, first snow in Michigan, free verse, poem, Poetry, shallow depression

falter your fingers in
frozen sand where
lovers lay my halter

pulls, elegy on all
fours calming hand
leaving nothing ash

a shallow depression
where I went down
barbarically

canyon shadows

04 Tuesday Nov 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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Tags

canyon shadows, free verse, gout ragamuffin, Las Vegas, Nevada ghost, poem, Poetry

Deserted mountains, hoist
the provisions among

the fronds, I love
a burned country.

Only the sound of
quails can be heard,

gout ragamuffins through
the crags, do not talk

to me like I’m perishable
food. The sunbeams look

best when free, undress
upon entering the deep

hills. The rocks on
the green moss will

say: I love
the pigment in you.

yeti

01 Saturday Nov 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

≈ Comments Off on yeti

Tags

free verse, howl, poem, yeti

At ten thousand feet
the mountain deer

spots a scant shadow, like
that of a tree on a hill

moving slowly away
and the dog wonders

do tonight’s footprints
belong to a beast?

This legend moves brimmed
with sadness, blinking in

the frozen heights and
like our myths

it will go down
with a howl.

before all this

31 Friday Oct 2014

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

≈ Comments Off on before all this

Tags

3 fuckin stanzas, before all this, free verse, love you not, poem, Poetry

hold close I
love you not
because you’ll

do anything to
be loved but
because I

remember you
before all this
shit went down

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